


You Hung the Stars for Me

by GammaCapNashira



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crab Fishing, M/M, SEALs, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, This is set in alaska and let me tell you it was hard to find a reason to put mark in alaska, Weird Courtship, google thinks im moving to the Aleutian islands now, like if you squint - Freeform, mermaid au, this is a little bit of a slow burn, unusual significance of dead fish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GammaCapNashira/pseuds/GammaCapNashira
Summary: Mark has been living in Dutch Harbor Alaska for three years now, working as a radio jockey and a greenhorn. He hates the ocean, but radio doesn't pay the bills. As if the looming fishing season isn't stressful enough, someone has started playing a prank on him and leaving dead fish on his porch.Ethan is a selkie, living on his own. What happens when he falls for the handsome fisherman who seems terrified of the ocean? Ethan knows the risks, but he can't help beginning to court him.Could you believe, dear reader, that there is such a thing as a happy ending?
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 131





	1. Radio and Dead Fish

Mark Fischbach slammed the door of his white van, stepping out into the cooling late August air. He rubbed his hands together. It was around noon, the sun only being up for about five hours. The harbor was alight with fiery color as the plants began to change with the season. The mountains in the distance were dusted with the first dregs of snow. Mark grabbed his groceries from the trunk and crunched over the gravel to his small home, sandwiched between the cliff and the sea.

Mark unlocked the doors and stepped into the entrance/laundry room, kicking off his boots and sticking his coat on a hook. He opened the door and was instantly met by the sound of claws on hardwood as Mark’s dog Chica wandered down the wooden stairs, her tail wagging. Mark lavished her with pets and kisses, setting his groceries on the floor. He turned right out of the laundry room and drew back the white curtains covering the front windows, letting the weak Alaskan sun in.

Mark then stretched and padded back to Chica, picking up his bags and giving her big head a pat. He switched on the lights and set his groceries on the counter, moving to put everything away. Mark looked over to the calendar on the wall, thinking about the months to come. Soon it would be time to go out on the bay. Images flooded his mind, dark skies, sloshing waves, beating the sledgehammer against the railings of the boat, trying desperately to will the water on your body not to freeze. The feeling overtook him at once, as if he could feel the sea boiling under the slats of his A-frame cabin. He stumbled, clutching the counter, sliding onto the floor.

Chica nuzzled his face with her big nose. Mark came out of it as she licked his face, wagging her tail. He brought a shaky hand to her fur, petting her.

“Sorry girl,” Mark said, smiling. “You probably want to go on a walk, don’t you Chica-bica?”

Chica wagged harder at that, her whole body wiggling. Mark stood up and put the things that would spoil on the counter in their places before fetching his coat and Chica’s leash. Chica stood still while he clipped her harness on and slipped into his boots. When he opened the front door Mark yelped. There was a salmon on his porch. It had deep bite marks in its neck and was so fresh there was still blood oozing from it. Mark stepped around it carefully, feeling a little dizzy.

As Mark made his way towards the trail along the top of the cliffs Mark thought he saw a flash of something in the water. The sea lions must be on the move.

***

Over the next three days Mark found fish after fish on his front porch. Each time he would toss the fish in his compost pile, holding a hand over his nose. Mark lay on his bed, looking at his ceiling. The days were passing too fast for him. He was busy getting ready for fishing season, on top of his job at the local radio station. Mark looked at the clock on his bedside table. 5:45 AM. His shift started in about two hours. Mark scrubbed his eyes and felt a wet nose pressing into his side. He looked over and saw Chica in the light from the digital clock, just barely visible. Mark pet her big head and felt her tail thumping against the bed.

Mark switched on the lamp next to his bed and rolled out, padding down the stairs and hearing Chica’s collar jingling after him. Mark set up the coffee pot and then started on both of their breakfasts. His was four eggs, poached to cook them all the way through. Mark set Chica’s food on the floor before grabbing his plate and today’s papers. Mark slathered his eggs in hot sauce, careful not to get any on the stories he was supposed to read. They ate next to each other in amiable silence while Mark scanned the stories he had printed for today. He scribbled a few more notes in the margins of the short stories before harfing down the last of his eggs.

Mark washed his plate quickly and set up his travel mug with coffee and a little sugar and milk. Then he padded back upstairs and picked his outfit for the day. Mark eventually decided on a red flannel overshirt and a black Tshirt. Mark checked the weather and grabbed a heavier coat. Mark wandered around the house for a while, making sure he had everything including both their lunches, before clipping Chica into her harness. The station was okay with her coming in since all she ever did was sit under his feet, or occasionally pad off to bother one of the other employees for pets. The audience also seemed to love her. Mark smiled as he remembered the question coming in over their twitter, from a young boy who wanted to know how Chica was doing in the cold weather and whether she had any new coats.

Mark walked out into the brisk air, the sun still under the unpredictable Alaskan horizon. Mark noticed there wasn’t a fish on his porch with a frown. As much as he hated it, he was a little used to the sight in the morning. Mark shrugged it off and helped Chica into the van, nicknamed the Barrel, and hopped into the driver’s seat.

Mark drove down the familiar stretch of winding road, flanked on one side by red cliffs, the other by the dark sea. Mark thought idly of the old Homeric description; wine dark. He had read somewhere that the ancient Greeks had no word for a dark indigo, and so used the closest thing they had; wine. Mark would personally describe the ocean as horrifying.

Mark felt the gravel under the Barrel’s wheels as he pulled into the station parking lot. The ground was strangely flat and low, even as the mountains loomed on all sides around the small town. It felt like being in a very large and flat bowl. The sun was finally rising sleepily over the horizon as Mark flipped the van into park and got out, letting Chica out shortly after. Mark grabbed his messenger bag and slung it on, Chica’s leash in one hand, his coffee in the other.

Mark walked in, quietly. The studio was padded and soundproof but he still was careful. There were only really four rooms at the station. There was the Studio, where the jockeys worked, the breakroom, the recording studio, where they put down the pre-recorded segments, and the office where Jones kept all the papers and managed the business. Technically Mavis should probably have her own offices since she was head editor, but the building and the budget were tight. Mark clocked in and made his way to the break room. Mavis was already there, typing on her computer. Mark popped his lunch box into the fridge, unclipping Chica and letting her sniff around. Mark slid down into one of the armchairs with a sigh, taking a sip of his coffee before talking to Mavis.

“Good morning, Mavis,” Mark said.

“Morning Mark,” Mavis said, smiling over her laptop at him. She looked tired. “I got your email. The story looks great. You can read it at the first interval after Kara gets off.”

Mark smiled back at her, “Thanks Mavis. Is it any good?”

Mavis rolled her eyes, “I said it looked great. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Mark looked back down at his coffee, butterflies in his stomach. He had first shared a short story a few weeks ago. A tragic comedy about a man trapped in a prison, his warped view portraying it as a wonderful place, even as he was being tortured. His new story was equally tragic. A man truamatized by war falling in love with a woman, married to an abusive monster of a man. In his first draft they survive, and live together in the end. But at the last minute he had changed it. Something twisted in him as he swirled his coffee bitterly. There’s no such thing as a happy ending.

Mark looked at the clock. It was time for him to go on air. Kara and he had a joint morning show at nine, to kick off the morning for the going to work crowd. Mark downed a little more of his coffee before heading to the studio and slipping inside, Chica following him.

Kara was on break as the three songs played, scanning her phone for news. She was a kind 19 year old, so young, with light brown skin dusted with freckles like heather on the mountains. She was just starting out in radio, only being at the station for a few months. She was a hard worker, and a delight to the viewers. Some of her dark black hair was falling in her face, illuminated by the light of her phone. She looked up at Chica and smiled, the dog going over to her instantly.

“Hi baby girl,” Kara cooed. “How’s your morning going?”

“You know I’m the cohost for the morning, right?” Mark chided, smirking and taking his seat.

“You’re just a third wheel,” Kara said, still not looking at him. Her brown eyes were crinkled as she grinned at Chica, but there were deep circles under her eyes. Mark knew she had been on air since one, taking the graveyard shift.

Mark slipped on his headphones, and let himself relax into his “On-Air” persona. He felt his introverted nature melting away as he heard the last few notes of the pop song fading into the background and Kara gave him the signal.

The first few hours were easy. Mark slipped into his rhythm with ease. News about the upcoming winter, a lost cat, reminders about the fishing laws. And then it was afternoon. Mark usually read his story of the day in the early afternoon, when there was a lull in the listeners. Mark pulled out his script and started to read. He was anxious at first, but it came easy to him, the words flowing easily.

Mark finished his story and thanked his listeners, cutting to commercial before going back into the music. After another three hours Angel came in. She was tall, standing taller in her heels. She shrugged off her fur coat, which Mark had learned was made by her grandmother, and Mark could see the black mesh of the top of her dress, black roses woven into it. Mark wondered sometimes if she was even capable of being cold. Her hair was like a halo around her head, styled into an afro, littered with spots of white, which extended down her face like strokes of a paintbrush against her dark skin. It reminded Mark of the beach stones, burnished brown rock smoothed by the tumbling of the ocean. Mark had never thought about Angel in a romantic way, but you’d have to be stupid not to recognize how beautiful she was.

“How’s it going?” Angel asked, taking her seat next to Mark.

“Good,” Mark said, smiling. “Read my story today.”

Angel nodded, “I listened. It was good. Sad ending though.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, looking away from her piercing brown eyes at the switchboard.

“You’ll meet them eventually,” Angel said.

“What?” Mark said, looking at her. Angel’s eyes were intense, like looking into the sun.

“Someone who makes you light up like the dawn,” Angel said, leaning back in her chair, “They’ll pull the stars down just for you.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, breaking her gaze, his voice unconvinced.

“Trust me sugar,” Angel said, flashing him a smile. “It’ll happen. And then I’ll tell you I told you so.”

Mark smiled. It was hard not to. Angel could command a room with a word. It was no wonder she had been in radio for six years. Their banter was easy, as it would when you worked with someone for three years. They’d seen each other pretty low. Mark had been there when Angel’s grandmother died, her last tie to her Aleut family, and Angel had been there when his whole world fell apart. He bit his lip, trying not to think about it as he quipped back and forth with Angel. She was wrong. The stars were just balls of nuclear power, burning hundreds of millions of light years away. There’s no such thing as happy endings. Not for him.


	2. Can Sea Lions Even Eat Cheese?

Mark was on his way home. He had plans to walk Chica by the beach for a bit and then pick up a pizza from the weird American-Asian place in town. Mark pondered how a place could serve both eggrolls and hand tossed pizza as Chica niffed happily among the rocks. Then she was barking. Mark hardly ever heard Chica bark. Instantly he was running to her over the rocks, picking his way carefully but quickly towards her. Then Mark saw what had made her so upset.

A boy, a bit younger than him, was curled up against the rocks, his skin a rough milky white. He had a ponytail going down his back, and seemed to be lying on a dead sea lion. But what really caught Mark’s attention was the blood. There was so much of it, all over the boy’s body, with a deep bite mark in his back. Mark knelt down.

“Hey,” he said, gently, shaking the boy by his shoulder. “Hey are you ok? Can you hear me?”

The boy groaned and looked up at Mark. His gaze was foggy. He pulled one arm out from under him and handed Mark something, pressing it into Mark’s hand. Mark looked at it. It was a seashell necklace, only partly strung. The centerpiece was a beautiful round abalone shell. Mark pocketed it, unsure what to do. The boy made a strange grunting growling noise and lay down on the rocks again. Mark shook him a second time.

“Hey kid,” Mark said, “I need to get you to a hospital. Can you walk?”

The boy stirred more, and he looked at Mark, his blue-green eyes still tired. Mark tried again, hoping to keep the boy awake. “My name's Mark. What’s your name?”

The boy thought for a moment and then said in a gravelly voice, “Ethan.”

Mark nodded. “Ok Ethan. I’m going to try to lift you. Stand with me, you can lean on my shoulder.”

Mark lifted up, but to his surprise the boy was heavy, too heavy to budge him. Which seemed odd. He wasn’t the thinnest person Mark had ever seen, with a good layer of fat and muscle on him, and Mark wasn’t a lightweight. Then he saw the sea lion’s body start to move, and the boy with it. Mark’s eyes widened. 

“Are you…” Mark stuttered, “Is that?”

Ethan whimpered. Mark shook his head alittle. He needed to help this person. He was imagining it. He couldn’t afford to have a break right now. This kid was hurt, Mark couldn’t let his brain get the better of him.

“I’m going to help you to my van, okay?” Mark said.

The boy was working with him now and they were moving slowly up the rocks to where the Barrel was parked on the side of the road. Chica moved around them concernedly, as if unsure how to help. Mark was struggling. He didn’t know how a hallucination could make the boy be so heavy, but he assumed it was because his brain was playing tricks on him. Eventually they made it. Mark threw open the back doors, thankful for once he hadn’t gotten around to renovating the back of the van into a bed. Ethan hoisted himself up and onto the floor of the van with some help from Mark. Mark’s hands brushed over the seal part of his body, and was surprised at how real it felt. He had never had a hallucination like this. Mark took off his coat and tied it around Ethan, putting pressure on the wound.

“We’re going to the hospital,” Mark said as he held the coat to Ethan’s wound, “You need a doctor.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, “No… please… no doctor”

Mark frowned, “Why?”

“I’m not,” Ethan looked away from him, “I’m not human. Haven’t you noticed yet?”

Mark felt confused, “Yes you are. What are you talking about?”

The tail against his thigh flopped and Mark looked at it. He reached out and carefully touched it. It felt real. The fur was short and sleek, coarse agains this fingers. And warm. He could feel the muscle and fat under the skin. Ethan blushed.

“I thought I was imagining it,” Mark said softly.

“You’re not,” Ethan said.

Mark felt like the world was spinning. He thought back to some of his brief stints at other jobs, his stays in the psych ward when he was in his twenties. Because he would see a woman with a cats head or a snake body, a ghost wandering the halls of his home.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Ethan said, “I thought you knew.”

“I guess I did,” Mark said, “I just didn’t know I knew.”

Ethan winced, holding his side where the other side of the bite was. In the fading light Mark could see the other signs. What he assumed as a ponytail was a short mohawk of hair that extended halfway down his back, and his skin was rough, a lot like the skin of a stingray. His chest was dotted with freckles, covered in ample fat and muscle, like a strongman. Mark’s eyes drifted to Ethan’s face, his deep set blue-green eyes, like a sea on a cloudy day. One of his ears was pierced, a small bone earring shining against the dark brown of his hair. Mark knew in that moment that he couldn’t leave Ethan on the beach.

“Let’s go to my house,” Mark said, making up his mind. “I have a first aid kit.”

Ethan cocked his head a little, thinking. Then he nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

Mark nodded, “Try to keep pressure on that.”

Ethan nodded back, doing his best to shift pressure onto his wound. Mark whistled Chica and had her hop into the front seat. Mark pulled onto the main road and headed towards his cabin. Mark pulled off the road onto the gravel of his driveway, throwing open the drivers door.

“Wait here a second,” Mark said, “I’m going to get a place set up inside really quick.”

Ethan nodded. He looked pale. Mark bit his lip and ran to the door, fumbling with his keys. Once he finally wrenched the door open he rushed into the main room. The couch folded into a futon but with Ethan’s weight it probably wouldn’t hold him. So Mark ran to the storage room under the stairs and pulled out all of his extra blankets. He tossed them into a makeshift nest on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, where it was a little warmer. Then Mark hurried back outside. Chica had followed him inside from his still open door, and she was panting at him with her big goofy smile. Mark returned it the best he could and swept back out to the van.

When he threw the doors open Ethan slid back towards him, lowering himself weakly onto the ground, wincing a little as the gravel bit into his skin. Mark helped him the best he could to the front door, and somehow they made it inside. Mark showed him to the nest, where Ethan curled up, resting on his uninjured left side. Mark ran upstairs for the first aid kit, bringing it down, along with several fluffy towels. Mark laid all his supplies on the floor next to Ethan, who was panting a little. Angel had showed him how to do stitches before, but Mark was still anxious. Mark pulled out the gauze, sterile curved needle, needle driver, and sterile thread.

Mark knelt next to Ethan. Ethan looked at him with his big green eyes and Mark could see, beneath the humanness of them, was something deeper, something feral, like looking into the eyes of a terrified animal. Mark moved to help Ethan into a better position and as gently as he could he pulled off the flannel he had tied around Ethan’s body. The wounds weren’t as nasty as he thought. A few of them were deep, one on his front and two on his back. Mark’s hand lingered for a moment. Ethan’s skin was rough, almost scaly. Ethan whimpered and Mark stood up to wash his hands and pull on his gloves, filling a glass with water.

Mark knelt next to Ethan again and started the process of cleaning them. Ethan was covered in sand, and the wound was caked in blood. Ethan hissed as Mark poured the lukewarm water over the wounds, catching it on one of the towels. When he was satisfied Mark opened the sterile needle and thread, pulling on new gloves. He took a deep breath and looked at Ethan.

“This is going to hurt like hell,” he said.

Ethan nodded, “Do it.”

Mark set in with the needle driver and started stitching Ethan up. It was going to heal ugly, Mark knew that firsthand. But they didn’t have any other options. Ethan was quiet, but his eyes never left Mark’s face. Mark finally finished, wrapping Ethan in the sterile gauze and hoping to god this worked. Ethan looked tired. Mark stood up and started clearing the bloody towels and other debris.

“Are you hungry?” Mark asked as he dumped everything in the trash can.

“I'm starving,” Ethan said with a weak smile. Mark noticed one of his teeth was crooked, just out of place. He couldn’t place why he noticed it, but he did. Along with the gentle way his deep-set eyes scrunched when he smiled.

“What can you eat?” Mark asked, turning around and looking in the fridge.

“Anything you can,” Ethan said, “Except maybe peanuts.” He shivered, as if remembering something.

“How’d you figure that out?” Mark said as he fished out the stuff for tomato and cheese sandwiches.

“Are you kidding? Tourists love to feed sea lions,” Ethan said with a giggle. Mark loved that noise, he realized.

“So,” Mark said, cutting the tomatoes, scoring a line with the blade in the tough skin before pushing it through. “Most people can’t see you?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, “They just see a sea lion.”

“What’s,” Mark swallowed, smearing some mayo on the whole wheat bread, “Why can I see you then?”

Ethan shrugged, “Who knows. Maybe you had some ancestor who wasn’t human, but maybe you just can.”

Mark hummed and finished the first one, bringing it over to Ethan, “I can go to the store tomorrow and get fish or something if that would be better.”

“You don’t have to,” Ethan blushed, taking the plate.

“You’re staying here, aren’t you?” Mark asked, turning to his own sandwich.

“I,” Ethan started.

“You’re not going out in the water like that,” Mark said, fixing the boy with his gaze, “You’ll get an infection for sure.”

Ethan looked down at his sandwich and said in a small voice, “Why are you helping me?”

Mark paused in his tomato massacering and thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t let this person, couldn’t let Ethan, die on the rocks out there. Not when he could do something about it. He wondered if that was how Angel felt when she saw him missing from work two years ago. She could have said nothing. But she didn’t. She came. And that might be the reason he was still here.

“I couldn’t leave you,” Mark said, deciding on the truth, “Not when I could do something about it.”

Ethan smiled as Mark brought over his sandwich. They dug in together.

“Wow,” Ethan said, his face covered in tomato juice and mayo, “I love this. This is way better than raw mackerel.”

Mark smiled, “Wait until I introduce you to Takis.”

“Who’s that?” Ethan asked after swallowing another bite of sandwich. Mark laughed.

“I’ll tell you later.”

They finished their meal, and Ethan lay down on his stomach, resting his head on his folded hands. He looked like he was struggling to stay awake. Mark could feel Ethan’s eyes on him as he washed the dishes.

“You can sleep,” Mark said softly. “It’s okay.”

Ethan hummed, a low growly noise, but somehow still not threatening. When Mark turned around Ethan was asleep. Mark sighed and dried his hands on a dishtowel. He left the first aid stuff on the table and went upstairs, turning out the light as he did. Chica followed him to bed. Mark realized as he crested the top of the stairs this was the first time he’d had anyone stay over in three years. Mark sat down on his bed and looked at Chica.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not attempt to suture wounds at home kiddos


	3. Song of the Sea

Mark called into work sick. He could hear Mavis raising her eyebrows over the phone, but she didn’t ask questions. Mark padded downstairs in the dark after picking out an outfit by the light of his phone. A grey hoodie with a red inside lining over a Tshirt and a pair of black sweatpants. Mark padded downstairs as quietly as possible.

“I’m awake.”

The voice nearly made him jump a mile in the air. Instead, Mark adjusted his glasses and turned on the light. Ethan was lying on the floor still, but had clearly moved around a lot in his sleep.

“Did you sleep okay?” Mark asked, starting up the coffee pot.

Ethan hummed, “Yeah. This is a lot softer than the beach.”

Mark thought for a moment, then said, “How do you know English?”

“Mark,” Ethan said, pushing himself up with a wince, “We’re not speaking English.”

Mark turned around, forgetting everything he was doing with breakfast, “What?”

“We’re speaking Hurrenach,” Ethan said, tilting his head to the side. “It’s the language of my people.”

Mark sat down heavily in a kitchen chair. He put his head in his hands, suddenly feeling the weight of everything. Ethan straightened up, scooting closer to Mark and putting a hand on his knee. Mark noticed that his hands had webbing between the fingers, just up to the second knuckle. His hands were warm, comforting. Mark looked up into Ethan’s face. His eyebrows were knitted with concern, his eyes looking blue in the light of the kitchen. Ethan looked away after a moment, withdrawing.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan said.

“It’s not your fault,” Mark said with a weak smile, “It’s just a lot to get used to.”

“I’ll help you,” Ethan said, gently. Mark looked into his blue green eyes, and he understood Homer in a roundabout way. Ethan’s eyes reminded him of wine bottle seaglass, rounded and frosted by rolling waves over sand.

Mark nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and breaking Ethan’s gaze.

“I need to go into town, get a few things for us to eat,” Mark said.

Ethan nodded.

“Would you be okay here by yourself?” Mark asked, “I could put on a movie.”

Ethan cocked his head to the side, “What’s that?”

Mark rubbed the back of his head, smiling, “I didn’t think about that. Uh. A movie is like… It’s a story that’s recorded and then you can watch it anytime you want.”

Ethan lit up at that, “That’s so cool!”

Mark smiled wider, standing up and stretching. He went to the living room, Ethan following behind him. Mark fiddled with the TV on its little stand in the corner, an old thing that barely picked up Netflix by some miracle. Ethan settled on the floor in front of the futon, inside a nest of blankets he dragged over. Mark scrolled through the list of movies before selecting Song of the Sea. It was a movie about selkies, and for a minute Mark wondered if it would be offensive.

“Okay so this movie is about selkies,” Mark began, “It’s probably not accurate at all but I think it’s really good. It’s animated. Which means it’s like… a bunch of drawings? You essentially take a bunch of snapshots of them and then play them all one after the other to make it look like they’re moving.”

Ethan had a confused look on his face, but seemed excited. Mark was going to head to safeway, but ended up curled on the floor with Ethan, also engulfed in the movie. It was one of the last truly 2D animated movies, made by a dedicated studio. He admired their talent, and the movie itself was haunting and gorgeous, rooted in Celtic mythos.

Mark noticed Ethan didn’t like to sit upright, but there wasn’t really a good way for both of them to sit. Ethan seemed nervous to crowd him. Mark eventually just patted his lap, and Ethan lay down across him, resting his head on Mark’s knees. Mark felt a little jolt through his body. Ethan’s eyes were glued to the screen, mesmerized. Mark gently laid his hand on Ethan’s back, and he made a sort of pleased humming noise before blushing profusely.

“Sorry,” Ethan said, moving a little.

“No it’s fine,” Mark said, “That was cute.”

Ethan’s whole face went red, but he turned his gaze back to the screen. Ethan sat up as the credits started to roll.

“That was so cool!” Ethan gushed, moving his hands excitedly, “How they got the drawings in the screen. And the story was beautiful!”

“I was a little worried you’d be offended,” Mark said sheepishly.

Ethan shook his head, “No. I know most humans don’t know anything about us. But they were kinda right.”

“How so?” Mark asked.

Ethan chewed his lower lip and cast his gaze down before answering, “There’s an old legend that says if a selkie falls in love with a human and the human loves them back they’ll become human.”

Mark felt himself blush. He picked up the remote, going to select another movie. They ended up watching the first spy kids movie. It was cheesy, but Ethan seemed to love it. He was enraptured by the action, and the strong themes of family that grounded the movie.

Mark felt his phone buzz. It was Angel.

I heard you were sick. Everything okay?

Mark quickly tapped back a response. Yeah everything’s fine. Just a bug.

Angel typed for a long time, but when her message came through it was short. You’re a terrible liar, Mark.

Mark chewed his lip. He could tell Angel anything, right? You’re right Angel. You can read me like a book.

Well are you going to tell me?

Meet me at Safeway? I’ll buy us coffee and we can talk. I don’t know how to say it over text.

Mark I swear to god if you got involved in the mafia or something.

Mark let out a little laugh. No I promise it’s not that. It’s good news I think. Complicated news but… maybe good news.

Good to know. See you in a few.

Mark tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Hey Ethan?”

Ethan hummed.

“I have to go into town. I’ll be back soon, okay?” Mark said.

Ethan nodded. Mark showed him quickly how to work the TV before putting on his shoes and coat and bustling out the door. He decided they would have fish and egg fried rice that night. It was easy and fairly fast. Mark cranked up the heat a little bit. It was getting into September now, and the air was cooling fast.

The Barrel lurched into the parking lot, finding a spot close to the building easily. There wasn’t anyone out right now at noon. Mark swung the door open and took in a lungful of salty air. It calmed him a little. He wondered if he was making a mistake. Mark shook his head. Angel had been there through everything. She would be there through this.

There was a little coffee store inside the safeway, tucked to the side by the deli department. Angel was waiting for him, dressed in her grandmother’s fur coat. She had ordered a drink already, something hot. Mark stepped up to the counter and stumbled through an order. He wasn’t especially good at fancy coffee. After the barista handed it to him with a smile Mark sat down across from Angel.

“So,” Angel said, leaning closer. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

Mark fidgeted with the lid of his coffee, sighing and setting it down, “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I found a merman.” Mark said. Angel’s left eyebrow shot for her hairline but she said nothing so Mark kept going. “He’s like a seal? Sort of. He was hurt and I couldn’t just leave him on the beach. He’s nice. His name’s Ethan.” Mark felt his face softening a little as he thought about Ethan’s sea-dark eyes before schooling himself back to normal.

“You found a selkie.” Angel said, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Mark said, “Wait you’re not calling the cops?”

Angel shook her head, her dangly earrings clattering like a box of dropped beads, “No honey. I know what you’re talking about. Magic.” She judged Mark’s reaction and smiled, looking down at her drink, “My grandmother was a selkie.”

“No way,” Mark breathed.

Angel nodded, “She met my grandpa when he was fishing, and she saved him from the freezing water. They fell in love.” She fixed Mark with her intense eyes, glittering like fresh soil as she leaned back in her chair, “So what are you going to do?”

“What?”

“I asked what you were going to do,” Angel said. “You like him.”

Mark almost spat out his coffee. “What?! No I don’t!”

Angel fixed Mark with a knowing smile, “Honey you’re fidgeting, and you got this far off look when you talk about him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark deflected. “I’m a human, he’s a selkie.”

“Worked for my grandparents,” Angel pointed out.

Mark made a dismissive noise and Angel laughed.

“Okay honey. I can see you’re not ready,” Angel said with a chuckle, taking a sip of her drink. “I’ll cover you at work. Kara and Mavis and I will be fine for a while.”

Mark smiled, “Thanks Angel.”

“Go get em tiger,” Angel said, flashing him another smile and shooing Mark off.

Mark got up and grabbed a cart, thinking about what Angel said.He shook his head as he headed to the deli aisle. There’s no such thing as a happy ending. Mark picked up a styrofoam plate of wrapped salmon. He thought about Ethan. Happy endings don’t exist. Do they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took so long ;; school has been kicking my ass


	4. Video Games and the Smell of the Sea

Chica greeted Mark at the door, wagging her tail and barking. Ethan shuffled over. He appeared to be doing a lot better, and Mark was surprised at his movement on land. His back legs, unlike a seals, could almost support his weight and swivel forward, carrying him on all fours. It might have been easier if he weighed less but it didn’t seem to bother Ethan. He seemed happy to see Mark, his sea-foam eyes the color of a cold sky. Mark smiled back.

“Hi,” Ethan said, fidgeting with his earring.

“Hi,” Mark said, brushing Chica out of the way and heading to the living room.

Ethan had built the nest up a little more, pulling pillows off the couch and creating a sort of bed. The TV was paused, halfway through an episode of Pokemon. Mark sat down half in the nest, and Ethan flopped down next to him, partly crushing one of Mark’s legs, his face alight with curiosity.

“Here,” Mark said, pulling some stuff out of the bags, “Let’s look through this together.”

Ethan picked up the plastic chips bag with one hand, his body posture guarded as it crinkled at him.

“Oh those are Takis,” Mark said, setting the tomatoes aside. “They’re spicy.”

“Never heard of that before,” Ethan said, “What’s spicy?”

“Uh,” Mark said, “It makes your mouth hurt, but in a good way?”

Mark watched as Ethan tore open the package with his teeth, pulling a few of the sticks out and popping them in his mouth. Mark felt amusement spread across his face at the journey Ethan’s face went through.

“Ooooh,” Ethan said after a minute, shaking his head, “Don’t like that.”

Mark laughed and dug in his messenger bag for his water bottle, handing it to a grateful Ethan. Mark explained a few other foods, like tortillas, to Ethan, before they got to the deli meat Mark had bought.

“I got some land animals and some water animals,” Mark said, rummaging in one of the bags. Ethan didn’t respond, so Mark looked over. Ethan was holding a tray of calamari, his face completely red.

“I got that for you,” Mark said nonchalantly.

Ethan shook his head and leaned closer to Mark. His wine-bottle eyes glistening with tears were inches from Mark’s. Ethan was searching, looking into Mark’s face as if he could read the universe in the growth rings hidden in his drift-wood colored eyes. He was leaning closer, and Mark was panicking. Mark scrambled back a little, and Ethan shot up, his hair on end.

“I’m sorry!” Ethan squeaked, bringing his hands to his face, “I just thought… you got me that,” he gestured at the squid on the hardwood floor, “And I thought you felt the same.”

“You’re the one who’s been bringing me fish,” Mark said softly.

Ethan nodded, groaning. “I thought you’d get it.”

“Humans don’t… court like that,” Mark said.

Ethan nodded. His face was still red, and scared. Mark could feel the tension. Everything in him was telling him to stop, that he was going too fast, that this would be like last time. But he was lost in Ethan’s eyes, adrift at sea, and he wanted to cling to the selkie like a life ring. Mark felt something crack in him. Like an iceberg splitting into the sea he tumbled forward, grasping one of Ethan’s hands as he fell, pushing them into a messy kiss. Ethan tasted like the ocean. Like sand and salt and something deeper, something old and musical and glowing, curling past Mark’s lips, weaving down into his bones. Ethan’s other hand found Mark’s side, gripping the fabric of his flannel, and Mark felt like he was on fire, an ember fluttering into the inky sky. Mark pulled away.

“I like you,” Mark breathed into the space between them. He was holding out his glass heart, already held together with spindles of gold, worked into the cracks. The words sat between them, as if they too were terrified to move.

“I like you too,” Ethan breathed.

They hugged. Mark thought kissing Ethan was electric, but just being there, pressed together as Ethan moved them side by side in the nest, wrapping his strong warm arms around both of them. Mark felt safe, drowning in the smell of linen and sea and Ethan. Mark trailed one hand up and carded it through Ethan’s brown hair, feeling the answering rumble reverberating through his own chest.

“Ethan we have to put the groceries away,” Mark said after a beat. He would have stayed there forever, happy and warm, but the groceries too were warming and it wouldn’t do to let just-bought food spoil.

Ethan released him with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

Mark gathered all the things with the help of Ethan, who mostly kept Chica from making off with something. After he had everything in his arms he headed to the kitchen, Ethan following behind him.

“What movies did you watch?” Mark asked as he started to put things away. Ethan lit up at that, launching into a long synopsis of some horror movie and the first couple episodes of Pokemon.

“It’s a trading card game too,” Mark added, tucking a fresh gallon of whole milk into the fridge, “And a video game.”

“What’s that?” Ethan asked, cocking his head.

“A trading card game is where you collect these little cardboard squares, and they all have different values. A video game is…” Mark struggled for a second, “It’s like a movie but you’re the protagonist.”

Ethan broke into a wide smile, “That’s so cool! Could you show me a video game?”

Mark smiled, “Yeah. Let me put everything away first.”

Ethan continued talking about the movies he watched. Mark noticed he had a knack already for scene tone, and lighting. Mark liked listening to Ethan talk. Mark was naturally quiet, and Ethan filled the room with his voice, gesturing occasionally when words didn’t feel like enough. Mark finally finished and leaned back on the counter for a moment, just looking. Ethan was leaned against the table, explaining the plot of Into the Spiderverse for the sixth time. Mark let his eyes move over Ethan’s body. He wasn’t toned like a body builder, but there was muscle under the layer of fat. Mark thought back to his wrestling days. Ethan looked like one of those kids, the fat padding him out to cushion his body.

“What’re you lookin at?” Ethan’s voice startled Mark out of his thoughts. Mark hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Mark said, “I can show you Sword and Shield, it’s the new pokemon game.”

Ethan nodded and they headed for the stairs. Mark went up first, then worried he might have to help Ethan. But Ethan did surprisingly well, holding onto the wall for support. Mark moved over to the couch in the loft. Mark grabbed his switch and sat down on the bed, swirling up the mass of blankets and pillows into a cocoon. He was wedged between the banister, to keep him from falling down the stairs, and the wall, making a perfect alcove.

Ethan hauled himself carefully up on the bed, and Mark felt it shift and groan under his weight but all seemed fine. Mark was suddenly grateful for the massive size of his bed. Ethan wriggled up next to him and laid his head on Mark’s shoulder to watch him play. Mark gazed over and gently lifted a hand to brush through Ethan’s soft chestnut hair. Ethan leaned into his hand and settled down more with a soft sigh. Mark felt like his chest was exploding, but he couldn’t shake a little bit of nagging fear. Happy endings don’t happen to people like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smooch! i couldn't do a slow burn if i tried.


	5. Last Night on Earth

Mark had to go into work the next day. Ethan said he was going to try and finish the entire Saw series. Mark looked at Ethan over their breakfast of eggs for himself and raw salmon for Ethan.

“Eth you know that’s like 11 hours of content right?” Mark said.

Ethan wrinkled his nose, “But don’t you have like a 12 hour shift?”

“Yeah but,” Mark retorted, “Try not to hurt yourself, okay?”

Ethan smiled, “I’ll make sure I don’t overdose on horror films.”

Mark stood up and dumped his plate in the sink, going back to the table and shoving papers in his bag. Ethan watched him, his little ears flicking.

“Can I listen to you?” Ethan said after a minute. Mark looked up at him and Ethan continued, “On the radio.”

Mark nodded and went to the storage room, pulling out an old radio with rabbit ears. He set it in on the table, tuning it to their station. Kara was on. She was talking about storm warnings and the fishing season. Apparently it was starting early that year. Mark’s eyes flicked to his calendar. It wasn’t that late, still September.

“Mark?” Ethan’s voice came to him through the haze of rocking waves and dark foam. “Are you okay?”

Mark swallowed thickly, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Ethan didn’t push him, but did rest a hand on Mark’s arm. They stood there for a while. But Mark had to go. Ethan pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek, making a strange chortling noise in his chest. Mark kissed him back. Ethan still smelled like saltwater. Mark grabbed his coat before saying goodbye to Chica, who was being babysat, and then was sweeping out the door into the total darkness of the Alaskan morning. The drive was long. Mark found his mind wandering, caught between his fear of the dark choppy waves beside the road and the taste of salt on Ethan’s skin. Ethan was the ocean, but Mark wasn’t scared of him, somehow.

Mark pulled into the parking lot and shut off the Barrel. He went straight to the booth, since he was running a little late. Kara had the lights on this time, and Mark could see the tattoos on her face. Three lines ran from her lower lip to her chin, radiating out in a sort of triangle. Two lines formed a V on her forehead. They talked for a bit while the music played. Kara was easy enough to talk to, but she was ten years younger than Mark, and he didn’t really know how to talk to her. Eventually they went on the air and did their morning routine.

The hours wove on. It was time for Mark’s short story. Mark took out his script, but something else fell out of his bag. The crumpled paper fell to the floor and Mark chased it with his foot, finally able to bring it back up to the desk and unfurling it. It was actually several pages, wadded up and stuffed in his bag. The first draft of his short story lay on the radio console. He smoothed it out gently. Something in his chest caught. He slowly removed the last three pages of his story and tucked the battered pages in. Then he was on.

“Good afternoon Dutch Harbor,” Mark began, letting his voice rise in pitch so it wasn’t as gravelly, “And welcome back to today’s short story.”

Angel came in a few hours later, smiling ear to ear.

“I knew you could do it,” she said, flopping down in the other chair.

“Do what?” Mark said, not looking at her.

“Come on!” Angel chided, “I heard your story on the radio. I know you changed the ending because of that boy.”

Mark felt himself blush, “Yeah.”

Angel gave him a warm smile and lowered her voice a bit, tamping down her excitement, “You deserve this Mark.”

Mark hummed.

“Are you ready?” Angel asked, grabbing her headphones.

Mark nodded, and they were on air. Partway into their show Mark felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out, wondering if it was Ethan. Instead he saw a familiar number. Signaling to Angel that he needed to take it, Mark slipped out of the booth.

“Mr. Fischbach?” a cold voice said on the other side of the crackly line.

“Yes that’s me,” Mark said, trying desperately to wet his dry mouth.

“Your shift starts in five days, on the Barracuda.” When they didn’t get a response, they asked, “Mr. Fischbach?”

Mark swallowed, trying not to let his brain fuzz out. “Yeah. I got it. The Barracuda. I’ll be there.”

Mark went back into the booth, trying not to look too shaken around Angel. They finished their show, but Angel kept shooting him worried glances. After it was over, Mark left. He went straight home. He knew he still had some hours at the studio, but he already had his commercials recorded. Mark tried to keep his eyes clear as he drove home.

Ethan was by the TV, watching from his nest of blankets, Chica somewhere upstairs since Mark couldn’t see her. Mark walked over to him as if in a daze, his bag thumping to the floor. He knelt beside Ethan, who was halfway through a greeting, before Mark kissed him deeply. Mark reached up and tangled his hands in Ethan’s brown hair as Ethan leaned into the kiss, resting a hand on Mark’s waist. Mark gently nipped at Ethan’s lower lip and Ethan let out a sort of purr.

“Mark,” Ethan breathed, pulling away. Mark worried for a second that he’d gone too far. “Are you okay?”

“I’m going out in five days,” Mark said, sitting back a bit, “The fishing company, they want me out on the water in five days.” When Ethan just looked at him quizzically Mark continued, “I might not come home. God I’m…” he let out a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair, “I’m terrified.”

Ethan reached up and gently cupped Mark’s face. Mark continued.

“And if I only have five days left to live,” Mark’s driftwood brown eyes met Ethan’s seafoam green ones, “I want to spend them with you.”

Ethan nodded. He leaned forward and crashed their lips together. They fell back against the floor. Mark felt Ethan’s hands under the fabric of his flannel, running against the rougher fabric of his T-shirt. Mark ghosted his hands over Ethan’s chest and waist, feeling the stretch where rough skin met coarse fur. Mark leaned back to slough off his flannel and shirt, leaning down again to press his body to Ethan’s. The rough pads of Ethan’s fingers, leathery but still somehow soft, exploring the plane’s of his back, dipping down around his hips. They were melting into each other, the world beyond becoming meaningless noise as they breathed together, feeling the other’s heart beating in tandem. Mark decided that if he was tossed in the ocean tomorrow he wouldn’t care, so long as he got this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. Everything kinda hit me at once. Thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> ps: yes both Kara and Angel are Alaska Native! Angel is half black and half Aleut and Kara is Alutiiq. Please let me know if I got something wrong, I tried my best to do my homework but I know as a half-korean person there's so much I have left to learn!


	6. Feels like Home, Feels like Hope

Mark woke to the sound of his alarm. He scrambled around under his pillow to turn it off before flopping back down and blinking open his eyes slowly. The soft light from downstairs was still on, casting a soft glow over the loft since the sun wasn’t up yet. Mark felt a weight in the bed and looked over, expecting to see Chica next to him. Mark felt a thrill run down his spine as instead he saw a mop of fluffy brown hair, pale skin dotted with freckles.

Mark reached over to touch Ethan’s face gently, and was surprised again. His skin wasn’t rough, it was soft and smooth save for the dusting of stubble around his jaw. Mark felt something brush against his leg, and he looked down at their silhouettes under the covers. Ethan’s body was small, much too small. Mark felt a bit of panic rising in his chest.

“Ethan?” Mark whispered.

Ethan groaned groggily, then after a moment of waking shot up into a sitting position.

“Mark?” he asked, frantic. “What the hell?”

Ethan threw off the covers. Last night the bottom of his body had been large and sea-lion shaped, with rolling planes of fur and fat and muscle. Instead now there was just smooth ivory skin. Ethan touched one of his legs, almost unbelieving.

“You’re human,” Mark whispered. “But… why now? We started dating days ago. Was it because we…” he trailed off, blushing.

Ethan palmed at his eyes with the heel of his hands, “No… I think… I think it’s because…”

Mark waited. When Ethan didn’t say anything Mark gently put his hand on Ethan’s knee. Ethan jumped a little, but didn’t pull away.

“You said you wanted to spend your life with me,” Ethan mumbled.

Mark thought about it, about to say that he didn’t until he stopped. His heart hammered as he realized he  _ did _ . He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Ethan. Now he was reeling too.

“You have work,” Ethan said, looking up suddenly.

“I work until noon today, just to wrap everything up before I,” Mark swallowed, “Before I go.”

Ethan nodded. Mark reached out to him and laced their fingers together.

“I wish I could come with you,” Ethan whispered.

“It’ll be three months at sea, and then I’ll be back,” Mark assured him, “And you can stay here. I’ll make sure you have money and everything, and if you need anything you can call my friend Angel.”

Ethan brought Mark’s hand up to his face, pressing both their hands to his cheek.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Mark asked.

Ethan looked at him, smirking, “Finally returning my advances?”

Mark laughed, “Something like that.”

They lay there for as long as Mark’s schedule would allow, and then Mark got up and shrugged on his T-shirt and flannel, tossing Ethan a hoodie and some sweatpants. Mark kissed his forehead. Ethan was a lot skinnier now, most of the muscle translating into a lean toned form with a little bit of fat on his stomach and thighs. Mark thought he was beautiful, watching him tug on the black sweatshirt over his smooth skin. They padded downstairs together and Mark made eggs while Ethan brewed coffee. Since discovering the stuff he seemed downright addicted.

Mark bustled around, gathering the things he needed for the day. As he hurried back downstairs from grabbing his briefcase Ethan pushed something into his arms. It was his lunchbox, and by the heft of it Ethan had packed it.

“I made it while you were getting your things,” Ethan said, blushing a little. He leaned in and pecked Mark on the lips, almost shyly. Mark blushed deep at that, and hurried out the door, saying goodbye to Ethan as he left.

His shift was easy. They gave him a bit more time off air, and a miraculous moment where Angel and him had a break together. Mark was unpacking his lunch when she came in. Inside were two tortilla sandwiches with lettuce and chicken from the night before, an apple, and a yogurt cup. Mark smiled. Under it all was a handwritten note. Ethan had written their names on it, in slightly wonky handwriting. He was slowly learning English, mostly from subtitles and internet videos, and Mark was touched at the gesture.

“Boyfriend sent you with lunch?” Angel said, plopping down in the chair next to Mark. She huffed, “I wish Nikola would do that for me.”

Nikola worked at the community center, teaching the local kids pottery. They were tall and thin as a rail with more piercings than Mark could count and long blonde hair, but they had gentle steady hands and the kids loved Nikola.

“Angel can I ask you a favor?” Mark asked.

“What’s up sugar?” Angel asked, sipping from her water bottle.

“Can you look after Ethan while I’m at sea?” Mark said. “Just… be there when he needs something?”

“I’ll take care of him,” Angel said, smiling easily.

“Really?” Mark asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

Angel laughed, like glass breaking, but in a sort of cathartic joyful way, “Honey if he’s family to you he’s family to me.”

Mark blushed. “Thanks Angel, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be doing just fine,” Angel said warmly, “Just maybe a little more of a hermit.”

Mark laughed at that and the conversation turned more light. Angel told Mark about this new show online, and Mark nodded along. He didn’t like talking, but that was fine because Angel liked to talk. Mark was still terrified of leaving Ethan, but he felt better knowing Angel was in their corner. It was only three months. Then he could come home, and start building the rest of his life. For the first time in years, Dutch Harbor felt like home. It felt like hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good god this took a while. im sorry finals kicked my ass. ive got like 18 projects in the works so stay turned to see how long it takes me to upload next time! (hopefully soon since I have more free time)  
> Also! We're on the home stretch. at most four more chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! Here we go! My second fic. This one is much more AU focused. (Ethan's a seal for fucks sake) This takes place in an ambiguous present, with ambiguous plot. Could you believe this started as a gongoozler idea?
> 
> Side note: Ethan the merman courting Mark is based on an idea my friend had in a discord, and their idea was loosely based on a fic from a while ago.


End file.
